Forever Immortal
by Shadow5436
Summary: <html><head></head>Summer Rose might be immortal, but now she was dead and Ruby was alone.</html>


Winter. Ruby had always enjoyed winter. She liked the snowflakes that swirled around her body, and the cold wind that played on her skin. The heat from the fire that warmed her skin and melted the snow when she walked into the house she shared with Yang and her father. The constant gray clouds that lingered overhead, blocking out the sun.

It wasn't summer. It wasn't what she had lost.

She remembered her mother. The way her hair smelled, how her hugs felt, the way her hair cascaded down her back. She remembered all of it, but now her face was a slowly fading memory, except her eyes. A pure, striking silver. Every time Ruby tried to imagine her face she could picture it for a few seconds, before it shifted to her own, or to her half-sister, Yang's face. Her father never talked about Summer Rose, and all the pictures were gone, locked away in some hidden place far away from Ruby.

Ruby had only been four that day, just like the day before it, just like the day after it. Her mother had made her pancakes that morning and then walked her to the bus stop. Ruby went off to school, and Summer went off to kill Grimm. Ruby came home. Summer didn't. Ruby lived, and her mother died.

Ruby woke up the next morning. And every morning after that day, while Summer kept sleeping.

That was why Ruby liked the winter so much, because Summer was still asleep. Yang had cried. Ruby had cried. Their father stopped getting out of bed. Yang cooked them breakfast, and packed their lunches, and then cooked dinner. Ruby did her math homework by herself every night, and now Yang read her bedtime stories. Ruby would pretend to dose off, Yang would leave, and then Ruby would cry herself to sleep.

At school the teachers had offered their condolences, and talked about what a great person her mother was. The kids were nice to her, and always told jokes in an attempt to cheer her up. She smiled, she laughed. In the end, it was all fake. She buried her pain and continued to live.

When she got off the bus after school she'd start walking back towards the house, alone. She used to walk with her mother, who would ask about her day or tell her a story. Now she made the walk in silence. Only the sound of her shoes on the pavement, and the occasional car to accompany her, a poor replacement for a mother.

Weeks passed before she saw her father, and when she did he said nothing. Just sat stiff as a board in the chair at the funeral home as they talked about a funeral, Summer's body finally being returned to them. Ruby kicked her legs aimlessly in the hard chair, tugging at the hem of her black dress. Black, not red, not her mother.

The entire island of Patch had come together for Summer Roses' funeral. All two-hundred of them gathered on the eastern cliff as her coffin was lowered into the ground, her tombstone set above her.

_Thus kindly I scatter._

Ruby didn't know who had chosen those words, but she didn't like them. It was so wrong, nothing like her mother. Ruby watched as the hole was filled in, her mother gone, along with Ruby Rose.

The years passed. Eventually Yang settled into her new role, and Ruby continued to cry herself to sleep every night. Ruby did averagely in school and had trouble making friends. At recess she would go to the library and read. During lunch she'd sit alone and read. Yang would always drag her away and try to integrate her little sister into her circle of friends, but Ruby never fit in, being five years two years younger than them.

Then Ruby was ten.

It was a tradition on the island of Patch, on a child's tenth birthday they'd be handed either their mother's or father's weapon and face off against a random Grimm in front of the entire village. Two years ago Yang had been pitted against an adult Boarbatusk, and had easily slain the monster with their father's spear.

Now Ruby stood alone, and weaponless in front of the entire village, now with a larger population than the last time. Yang stood in front of the crowd, looking impatiently at her watch, golden gauntlets gleaming on her wrists. The villagers buzzed with excitement. Summer Rose was the best warrior the island had ever seen, Yang had been the next, but now it was Ruby Rose, the true daughter of the great huntress.

At precisely noon the cage would be opened, and Ruby would fight, yet she was still without a weapon.

_Ten minutes,_ she thought anxiously watching the cage. The steel door rattled as the Grimm pushed against it.

_Three minutes. _

_Two minutes. _

_One minute. _

_Thirty seconds. _

Off from the side opposite the crowd there was a gleam of sunlight off steel. Ruby watched as the sword swirled through the air, before boring itself into the earth a foot away from her right toe. Her mother's sword sat gleaming in the dirt, wire-wrapped hilt waiting for her to reach out and grasp it. She turned her head to see Qrow holding the scabbard, watching with folded arms. She yanked the weapon out of the ground, trying not to feel the cold metal in her hand, or the weight of the blade.

It burned.

It burned to touch her mother's weapon.

A village elder sliced through the chains, and a fully grown Beowulf came charging out. The villagers gasped, never before had a child been chosen to fight an adult Beowulf, only the strongest, and those were only juveniles. This was a death sentence.

Ruby took a step back, putting her right foot behind her and turning sideways with the blade in front of her. The polished steel reflected her own terrified face back at her. Off the edge she could see Yang with her gauntlets deployed, being held back by several older men. She struggled and screamed as the Beowulf locked eyes with Ruby.

It sniffed once, then twice, and charged. Ruby pushed down her fear and raised her heavy weapon, meeting it's charge. Ruby was faster, and swung. Her swing was clumsy and batted aside easily. The hit hurt when it came. It sent her flying back onto the soft grass. Her head hurt, and her jaw felt broken. The grass felt so soft and warm that she wanted to close her eyes and lay on it. Lay there and join her mother.

The Beowulf stood over here. The second hit hurt more than the first, directly in the stomach instead of the face. Then the third came, followed by a fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh. Her screams eventually died down into soft whimpers each time she was hit. Breathing became more and more difficult, and her tears ran dry. Just before the fifteenth punch Qrow decided she had enough and sliced off the beast's head with his scythe. Not before all the villagers had left. It had become clear to them, Ruby Rose was not her sister. She was not her mother.

She was not Summer.

She was a failure.

Yang had carried her home, their father nowhere to be found. Qrow bandaged her broken ribs, and gave her tea to help soothe her throat. She hadn't slept that night. The shame keeping her awake, staring at the ceiling. She was the only child in the island's long history to completely fail to even harm their opponent.

For once she didn't feel the need to cry. She was glad her mother was dead, so she didn't have to witness Ruby's failure. So that she wouldn't be disappointed in her like everyone else was.

Yang continued to search for her mother as the years went by. Now at school, Ruby was forced to be a loner, instead of choosing to do so. Yang's friends no longer welcomed her, and the other children mocked her and laughed at her, each one of them had managed to slay their Grimm.

When she was thirteen Qrow managed to pull enough strings to get her into Signal, despite her lack-luster performance with weapons. Yang was ahead of Ruby, so the two saw little of each other during their time there. Yang told Ruby to try and make friends, but the other kids from Patch had told all the students about what had happened three years previous. She was once again mocked, but Yang never heard any of it. Ruby would make things up and tell Yang all about her friends. Friends that didn't exist. Most of them came out of books.

Every night Ruby would sneak out of her dorm and into the common room, where she'd bury her head in a pillow and cry. She cried because she missed Summer, and she missed winter, and because she was a failure. The only student in a combat school who had yet to kill a single Grimm by herself.

So she cried.

Yang had done the same, a long time ago, when Ruby was little. But now she had something that Ruby didn't, hope. Yang could hope that her mother was still alive and that one day she could see her again, but Ruby knew that she would never see Summer. She watched Summer die with her silver eyes. Her mother's eyes.

Ruby could no longer remember Summer. She couldn't remember the way her hair smelled, how her hugs felt, or the way her hair cascaded down her back. The only thing that she could remember was that she used to remember, but the memories had faded into a dull haze. Qrow had given her an old picture of her mother on Ruby's first day at signal. The picture was of her mother three days before she had died. She was standing in a field of roses, bending down to pick one up, a small smile played on her lips, dark hair tucked over her shoulder. Her cloak rested on her shoulders, the cloak that Ruby now wore.

Ruby had been reading in Signal's courtyard when a young man had walked up to her.

"Are you Ruby Rose?" He had asked her.

"Yes."

"Excellent, my mother found these, and wanted me to return them to you, they were your mother's," he said as he held out a two silver disks. Two crests of the Rose family, adorned in pure silver.

She wordlessly reached out and took them.

"She was a hero, your mother. She saved my life when I was a child. Even though she may not be here, the things she did live on, but you've probably heard that before. Immortal that woman, forever immortal."

He smiled at her like he had just done the greatest of deeds, and she forced a smile. He nodded, content with himself and walked off. That night, Ruby cried herself to sleep, just like she had every night for the past ten years.

She wanted to believe that she would get over it one day. That one day the pain may no longer hurt as badly as it did now. One day she may smile genuinely again, and her enthusiasm and outgoing appearance would be real.

Her mother was forever immortal, but right now she was dead.

And so Ruby cried.


End file.
